If She Had Touched Me," He Said

Only To A Magician Is The World Forever Fluid, Infinitely Mutable And Eternally New. Only He Knows The Secret Of Change, Only He Knows Truly That All Things Are Crouched In Eagerness To Become Something Else, And It Is From This Universal Tension That He Draws His Power.

What Do Men Know? Because They Have Seen No Unicorns For A While Does Not Mean We Have All Vanished.

Writing Has Nothing To Do With Publishing. Nothing. People Get Totally Confused About That. You Write Because You Have To - You Write Because You Can't Not Write. The Rest Is Show-business. I Can't State That Too Strongly. Just Write - Worry About The Rest Of It Later, If You Worry At All. What Matters Is What Happens To You While You're Writing The Story, The Poem, The Play. The Rest Is Show-business.

Never Run From Anything Immortal. It Attracts Their Attention.

The Unicorn Halted In Her Slow, Desperate Round Of The Cage, Realizing For The First Time That The Magician Understood Her Speech. He Smiled, And She Saw That His Face Was Frighteningly Young For A Grown Man-untraveled By Time, Unvisited By Grief Or Wisdom. "i Know You," He Said.